minds of men to new theories and splendid novelties; thus the Sçavans of that age, and also of the Academie Française, became the tools of a party. It is a well-known fact, that it is difficult for any mind, however elevated, to resist the attractions of interesting speculations, aided by the force of sophistry and ingenious argument. Yet with such a host of authorities to direct the steps of knowledge, the endeavour to enforce and support the received accounts of ancient date, will not be without its interest and usefulness.
Ir is my father's grave,'tis holy ground,-
He sleeps the sleep of death;-No idle sound
May now disturb his rest. He does not hear
The sigh that rends-marks not the falling tear.
His sleep is calm, and light is his repose
As falls the evening shadow on the rose!
Then may I weep he hears, he sees me not;
Shade of my father! is thy child forgot?
Is all the past and future hid from thee,
While its dread burthen lies so sad on me?
A trembling gleam of light is round me shed
As tho' a missive from the silent dead!
How sweet the pensive thought!-my father near,
To watch above his Christian child's career;-
To mark the pluming wings prepared to fly,
And join him in the regions of the sky!-
How sweet to hold communion with the past-
With him-the first-the dearest-and the last
Of many-aye, of all-that sweetly shed
The tears of love around my cradle-bed!-
With her, who watched above my infant years
With smiling hope-and now, with pensive tears,
Like changeful April's sweet and genial showers
And sunshine, on its own young flowers!
Oh! it is sweet to think-to feel that still
Their purposes of love they may fulfil;-
Watching the infancy-oh! not of years!-
Oh! not of anguish!-not of woe and tears
But the bright childhood of that opening scene
The heart conceives not, nor the eye hath seen-
The youth that knows no age-decline-decay,
But bursts and blossoms in perpetual day!